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When Earendil finally reached the wagon, he sat down on the end of it ever so gingerly, setting his dead arm in his lap.

Alena took the med kit and spread its contents out next to him. "Take off your shirt," she instructed him firmly.

Earendil grimaced. "You might have to cut it off," he grunted in reply.

Without hesitating, Alena complied. While she was working, Earendil looked over his shoulder at the rest of his family. "How is Andarien?" he asked, his eyes full of pain.

Unfortunately for poor Andarien, his clothes had not grown with him; but fortunately for him, the clothes, which had been made by the human tailor, were not of the same quality as elven clothes (though they weren't bad in themselves), and they had torn when he'd grown.

His cries were already fading, though he still had the odd whimper, and overall his cries had changed along with his body.

Earendil tried to smile, but it turned into a wince, and he simply nodded instead. "Good," he murmured.

Once his shirt was off, Alena set about examining his injury, though with how much it was bleeding, it was somewhat difficult.

"Lin, if you wouldn't mind lending a hand," she requested, bunching up Earendil's shredded shirt and putting it to the wound.

Alena motioned for Lin to sit beside Earendil. "For now, if you could let him lean forward on you, and hold this to the wound, catch as much of the blood as you can," she instructed, holding the tattered shirt out to her. "I need to see what damage has been done."

Considering he didn't seem to be able to move his arm ... quite a bit, in all likelihood.

Alena worked as quickly and as carefully as she could, and once she had ascertained what she needed to know, she set about bandaging up Earendil's shoulder to the best of her ability.

By that time, Earendil had fallen unconscious - or asleep, depending on how one viewed it - and Alena nodded for Lin to lay him back on the wagon and allow him to rest.

Alena smiled ever so faintly at Lin, her skin appearing even more pale than usual due to the blood that flecked it.

"Give him a few months, perhaps half a year," she murmured, "and he'll be fine. He's lucky - his nerves are all intact, so he'll have full control of his arm once it mends. It's a few torn muscles, that's all. The bad news is that he'll have to build them up from nothing again, so even once he has use of his arm he'll have to use it constantly to regain its strength."

She smiled again. "Now I think you and I need to wash ... and then I have a feeling it might be a good idea for me to see to our guest as well."

There was something about the woman that wasn't quite right, but she wasn't quite sure what it was yet.

Washing didn't take long, but Alena also wanted to change her dirty clothes before tending the woman, for fear that the blood might make her frightened again, or perhaps guilty. When she returned to the group, the woman still hadn't sat down, and was still holding her staff tightly with both hands, the falcon on her shoulder. She tilted her head in Alena's direction as she approached, but besides that made no indications of acknowledgment.

"And who might you be?" Alena murmured softly, putting one hand on the woman's shoulder, the one that didn't have the falcon on it. "Out here on your own? Though clearly you're not doing too badly."

Her eyes grew thoughtful at the feel of the cloak. "Spidersilk," she murmured. "Even if you aren't now, at one point you must have been at least somewhat wealthy."

Most of the others had gathered around as well, and Arthael leaned forward slightly.

"If I might try something," she requested, looking at Alena, her expression troubled.

Alena nodded. "By all means."

Arthael took a small step forward, wary of the woman's staff - which she clearly knew how to use quite well.

"Mistress," she murmured softly, and was rewarded when the woman turned her head in Arthael's direction; "does the name of Alassëa mean anything to you?"

At the sound of the name, a wrinkled creased the woman's forehead, though it seemed as though none of the other words had any impression at all upon her.